


A Ticket Game

by Sketchy_Skittles



Series: Planetary Spaces [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: CoCo Carnell, Coco hun im sorry but sometimes it be that way, Dubious Morality, Gambling, Mr. Munoz, River Runnings, Smoking, alcohol mention, life advice: never listen to Runnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchy_Skittles/pseuds/Sketchy_Skittles
Summary: CoCo and Runnings had volunteered to find tickets to their next job. Neither quite realized how hard getting south-side tickets was.Luckly for them, Runnings has a useful connection or two.CoCo regrets ever agreeing to work with Runnings





	1. Ask a question

**Author's Note:**

> Heres a fun fact for ya: i wrote this a few weeks back, but didnt post it until today.

Nightlife was, undoubtedly, what New Kindling was known for. Filled to the brim with all manner of clubs and parties, it was no surprise the place was called ”The Planet of Insomniacs” with its constant, near overwhelming thrum of energy and noise.

The main source of it all was Blasé City. A city where the party quite literally never stopped, people constantly socializing, dancing, and buzzing with more energy than a five-year-old on an espresso shot. That was where people always said the most interesting things in New Kindling were.

 

But, of course, it wasn’t the only place to get your fix.

Because the most interesting and frankly, most important, things were never quite where you’d think they’d be.

 

Well, that was what River Runnings was counting on, at least.

 

It was why she found herself standing before a dilapidated building in Pompard, twenty or so minutes outside Blasé. Side-by-side with a skittish bot somewhat shorter than herself, the bright pinks and violets of old neon lights alone illuminated the city streets, bathing them both in eye-aching colours. She flashed the bouncer an id she most definitely had an hour ago. The bouncer, a short man who could throw her across the planet with ease, looked over the driver's license before pressing a button or two on the wall and opening the banged up door without a single word. Runnings waltzed through the entrance, her confidence contrasting her companion’s worry, the definitely real id clutched in her hand.

 

The robot clung to her, pixelated eyes darting back and forth across a dark blue screen as if waiting for something to leap out at them any second now. As the door swung shut as the bot chirped,

“Runnings, why did you drag me here?”

“Because your probably a good chip to have ‘round here.”

A handful of people watched as they passed.

“Marnie could make a good chip, why not bring her?”

“Cause folks here are much more apt to listen to a bot than a witch.”

 

Passing a bar, they came to the far side of the room and descended the stairs.

“That’s because they’re scrappers, Runnings, everyone here’s a scrapper! Pompard’s a scrapping city!”

“Oh, don't get yourself in such a knot, CoCo. I won’t let nobody nab you for parts.”

Reaching the bottom, they approached an old metal door, not unlike the one at the entrance. Runnings began fiddling with a keypad beside it.

“Double negatives never lead to anything good” CoCo muttered. It was lost on Runnings, however, as she pushed open the door with an ancient sounding creak.

 

Behind it was a large room, lit by the the faded ceiling lights and more by the multi-coloured signs adorning each wall. Pool tables sat in the middle of the room, each one occupied by at least two players, if not more. A thin layer of smoke filtered through the air, imbuing the room with the bitter scent of tobacco.

 

They slipped inside the dim room, letting the door scrape shut behind them.

 

The room swirled with a myriad of muffled sounds as they weaved through games, past the tiny corner bar, and around an empty table at the far left. They moved quietly, Runnings searching left and right for someone she knew with absolute certainty was here. CoCo studied the players, the barkeep, the tv mounted on the wall, all the while trying to figure out why they were here. Or, rather, what exactly Runnings was looking for.

 

“Could you at least tell me who we’re looking for?”

Runnings didn’t turn to face her.

“You’ll see.”

“That's not at all an answer.”

“Just be patient and give me a second, I know he’s around here somewhere…”

“What does patience have to do with-“

“A-ha! There he is!”

Without another warning, Runnings grabbed CoCo’s arm and took off towards the back of the room.

 

Tucked away at a table off to the right, two young men were tangled in an intense game of pool. An older man, older than he had any right to be, watched from the sidelines, a glass of fine whiskey in his hand and a coat fancier than the entire city draped over his shoulders. One of the players, a near literal walking twig, took careful aim and pulled back his cue stick.

 

“Mr. Munoz!”

 

The tall man flinched and missed his shot. The other player, a man built like a rock but seemingly made of something stronger, laughed at his misfortune.

The elder, none other than Munoz himself, turned towards the voice, watching Runnings hurry over with CoCo in tow.

“Well would you look at that!”

He extended a hand towards Runnings, which she eagerly took without an ounce of hesitation.

“If it ain't Mrs. River Runnings, in the flesh.”

“Yep, that’s my name, don't wear it out.”

He chuckled, not quite as terrifyingly imposing as he first seemed. He had yet to notice CoCo, who chose to keep her distance.

“It's been a while kiddo. How’ve you been?”

 

As they chatted, CoCo eyed Munoz warily, studying him for even a slight hint of malintent. She knew better than to trust a rich man from Pompard, as any bot worth their life would. It didn’t take long for him to notice though, eyeing her with a matching mistrust.

“I see you've brought a little friend with you.”

“Oh, that’s right! I didn’t introduce you!”

Runnings pulled CoCo closer.

“CoCo, this is Mr. Munoz, an old family friend. Mr. Munoz, this is CoCo, she’s my bot.”

 

CoCo wanted to kick her for that particular comment, but instead, she opted to wave politely to the older man, and not cause a scene.

 

“Fancy lookin’ thing. Then again, your mother always did get you the nicest toys.”

 

CoCo seriously considered kicking them both here and now.

Thank the stars for restraint.

 

“But anyway, what brings you two here tonight?”

“Munoz, we need a favor.”

“I guessed that much, but what kind of favor?”

“An important one.”

 

He raised a brow. Was Runnings hesitating? How strange. He’d never known her to do that.

“Don't beat around the bush. What d’ya need?”

“Six tickets to Tal’re.”

“Please, that old planet? Those’re cheap, why not get’em yourself? Your folks’ve certainly got the money.”

“We need tickets to the south side. That’s why.”

 

Runnings and Munoz locked eyes in a silent exchange, a conversation that CoCo watched but couldn’t hear. Eventually Munoz leaned back in his chair, pulling a box of cigarettes and a rusted lighter from his shirt pocket.

 

“The south side, huh?”

He took one from the pack and flicked open his lighter before setting the tobacco aflame.

“There’s a reason why the barriers only cover the north sides of planets. South sides ain’t the most reputable ‘o places.”

Munoz took a long drag from his cigarette, idly watching the smoke swirl upwards and into the fog.

 

“Also why tickets there cost quite the pretty penny.”

He sent her a side glance.

“Too pretty a penny to just give away.”

 

“C’mon Munoz, you gotta have some to give us!”

“Oh, I got plenty, but they still run too high a cost to be a handout.”

“You still owe me though. Bigtime.”

“I don't owe you that much.”

 

Runnings felt desperation bubble in her gut. They’d promised Feather those tickets, they couldn’t come back empty handed!

“Munoz, please! We’re friends! There’s gotta be something we could-“

CoCo placed a hand on her shoulder, her pleading paused by the cool plastic.

“C’mon Runnings, he said he wouldn’t give them up. Let’s just go.”

“...Fine.”

 

Begrudgingly, Runnings turned sharply on her heels. Side by side, they walked away, Munoz watching them, watching CoCo, with piqued interest.

“Thanks anyway, Munoz.”

 

“Now ya’ll wait a second.”


	2. get an answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Munoz has a proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to me

 

They paused. Didn’t turn around, just paused.

 

“Come back here.”

 

Hesitant, they returned to the powerful man’s table. They stayed at arm’s length from him, wise enough to keep their distance.

He pointed at CoCo.

“You. Com’ere.”

 

With uncomfortable apprehension swirling in her core, she approached. Carefully, he took her arm and turned it over with a curious hum, flexing her fingers in and out. He shifted his studying gaze to her head, cupping the tinted screen in antiquated hands; he tilted it up and down, left and right. 

CoCo added utter confusion to the mish-mash list of feelings entangled in her processor. 

 

“CoCo, was it? You are quite the interesting piece of work.”

“Thank you?”

“Clearly rather complicated hardware hidden behind such a simplistic design, not to mention the advanced software you must be running.” He leaned back in his seat, finally letting her go

“You really are fascinating.”  

Her screen flickered, momentarily marring her face.

“Though that screen of yours could use some work.”

CoCo didn’t answer, instead choosing to fall back next to Runnings.

 

“You still want those tickets? Here, i’ll cut you a deal. I’ll play you for‘em.” 

”Play what?”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of poker chips. Ten in total were tossed on the table.

“Five chips, five questions each. Each time you fail a question, you give up a chip. Whoever’s got the most chips in the end wins. Simple.”

“If I win?”

“Then you get your tickets, of course.”

“And if you win?”

“Then I get the bot.”

 

CoCo despised this plan with every fiber of her being, easily envisioning the million ways it could go wrong.

 

“I don’t think-“

“Deal.” 

She turned to Runnings, barring the most shocked expression she could manage.

“What?”

“We’ll do it.”

Munoz grinned, much more sly than friendly. CoCo recalled why he previously seemed so intimidating.

“Good.” 

She nabbed Running’s arm with a sharp tug.

“Runnings? A word?”

Runnings spared the older man a glance, who turned away with the lazed flick of a wrist. 

“Take all the time you need, I’ll still be here when ya’ll get back.”

With that, CoCo dragged Runnings out of earshot.

 

“What in all creation do you think you’re doing?!? You can not seriously think this is a good idea!”

“Eh, I’ll admit, not my best idea, but-“

“Runnings, I. Don't. Belong. To. You! I am my own person!”

“I know.”

“Then why the  hell are you trying to sell me!?”

“Well, I wouldn’t use sell, persay. Trade is a much better word for it. Or maybe bet?”

“That is  not the point Runnings! I've got friends, a family, a life! I’ll lose all that if you don't win! Oh gods, what if he scraps me? I won't even get t-“

“CoCo.”

She grabbed her shoulders, staring CoCo down with a smoldering seriousness.

“I told you i'm not gonna let nobody scrap you, and I wasn’t lying. You’ll be fine!”

A terrifyingly cocky confidence spread across her face.

“Cause I've got a plan.”

“That only makes me feel worse.”

“Oh relax, you. I've got this. Plus, if he does win, we can just book it. He’s old, he’ll never catch up.”

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“Nope.” 

CoCo let out a heavily-compressed sigh.

“Fine, fine, make the stupid bet. But if I get killed I swear I  will find a way to come back and haunt you.”

“Fair enough.”

 

They returned to the table, the chips now sorted into neat piles of five. 

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. House goes first.”

 

Munoz tapped his chin, thinking.

“Let's start off with something simple. How many hospitable planets are there in the system?” 

“Roughly 300. Ish.”

“Correct. Your turn.”

 

“Which planet is the smallest, and what's its size?”

“Kancard, of course, at .094 kilometers squared. I’d know, i've got a house there.”

“Wrong.”

“What?” 

“The smallest is Juliard, at .089 miles squared.”

With a dissatisfied grumble he slid her a chip. CoCo perked up a bit. Maybe Runnings could actually win this.

 

“Where does the Taliark Sun Festival happen every year?”

“Trick question. The festival happens on a different planet every year. Not that ive ever gone, but-“

“Right, yeah, i get it”

Runnings rubbed a poker chip between her thumb and forefinger, the old tick resurfacing as she racked her mind for a question.

 

“Who painted the Mural of Manganese?”

“That little cheat Fierro Florence.”

“Yep. That dink.”

 

“In the tale of Balder’s Death, what did Odin whisper in Balder’s ear?”

Runnings opened her mouth to answer, but her mind drew to a sudden blank, and she quickly zipped it shut. CoCo grew less certain of her friend’s success as Runnings flung a chip in Munoz’s direction.

“I don’t know.”

“Ah, you’re close. Nobody does.”

“Wait, then doesn't that mean I was right?”

“All you said was that you didn’t know the answer, you didn't say if anybody else did.”

Now tied, they watched each other carefully, Runnings full of frustration while Munoz was calmly confident.

 

“How do you reach Cempasùchil, the Wishing Well?”

“Fall asleep past the edge of the system, or so they say.”

“Yep, that’s what they say.”

  
  


“Who created the original designs for the the most common series of commercial bot?” 

Runnings knew who that was, she’d heard their name on the news before, but she couldn’t seem to recall. Dr. Peters? No...what was it? 

Cautiously, she spared CoCo a look, searching for some form of an answer, only to receive a shrug in return. The tv was turned to the news, Runnings noticed, specifically a piece on modern tech.

“Well? You got an answer or not?”

“Dr. Patricia Thalmers”

“Correct.”

 

“Who wrote  _ The Greatest Guide to Paranormal Creatures _ ?”

“Jeremiah Walkers. Honestly Runnings, did you really expect me to not know who wrote my all-time favorite book?”

“Yeah, ok, fair.”

 

“How much does Sunflower Estate make on average?”

“What, yearly?”

“Sure, why not.”

“26.5 million. You forget, my dear old friend, I’ve got connections.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course you do.”

 

CoCo rubbed her hand up and down her arm, quite an odd habit considering she could hardly make out the sensation. The last question, the very thing that could decide her entire future, and Runnings seemed at a complete loss for what to ask.

Hopefully Munoz was a slow runner, or at least slower than her.

  
  


“Hmm...what walks on three hands at sunrise, two at noon, eight at sundown, and none at night?”

 

Munoz paused, fully and thoroughly stumped by the question. The sun, perhaps? Or maybe the moon? Some strange mythical creature, or a distant star? He searched the room for a hint of any kind. Looked to CoCo, to Runnings for an answer, but all he got was neon lights, an equally baffled stare, and a face devoid of any emotion other than smugness.

 

He reached into his bag once more, this time retrieving the promised handful of tickets to Tal’re. He slid them, along with a poker chip, across the table to Runnings, who snatched them up as though they were about to run away. He grabbed his whiskey and took a short sip.

“You’re lucky I was planning on taking my crew there. Guess we’ll need to reschedule.”

“See now Munoz, was that really all that hard?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, get out of here you two, before I change my mind.”

Runnings held the tickets close as she practically leapt from her seat and turned away, fully and totally ready to leave-

 

“Actually, one last thing.”

 

-and so much for that.

 

Whirling back impatiently, Runnings leveled him with a sharpened look that he choose to ignore.

“What  was the answer to your last question?”

She grabbed something off the table and flicked it to him, which he caught with one hand. Before he could see what she’d tossed him, the girls hurried off without another word.

 

Opening his fist, he found a single red poker chip sitting flat on his palm. 

The little rat.

  
  


He’d taught her well.

  
  
  


One long train ride and ten minute walk later, the two approached the treehouse their little group practically called home, not at all surprised to find the lights still on a such an absurdly late hour of night. They climbed the steep ramp to the landing, CoCo reaching the top first. As she waited for Runnings, she noted the sign hanging on the door, which was turned to ‘open’. Once she reached the top, CoCo pushed the door open, her hand covering a peeling sticker that read:

‘P.I.T. 

Paranormal Investigative Team’.

 

“You forgot to flip the sign again.”

 

Feather looked up from the pages of notes she’d been scrawling on their latest case as CoCo announced their entrance. Marnie lay on the floor in front of the couch, tucking dired herbs into tiny glass jars and completely ignoring everyone else.

 

“Hey, you’re back!”

Runnings kicked the door shut behind her before leaning the little counter Feather had taken over.

“How’d it go?”

“Eh, it went ok. We got the tickets.” 

“Oh, good!”

Runnings fished them from her pocket, tossing all six of them on the counter for the team leader to inspect. As expected, Feather snagged them in a matter of moments and excitedly looked them over.

“By the Cranes of Calder, these are first class seats! How in all creation did you get these?”

“Well, I-“

 

CoCo smacked Runnings upside the head with a cushion for her troubles, choosing instead to tell the story herself. 

 

In the end, nobody really blamed her for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would really bake my cake. Thanks for reading!


End file.
